breathe again
by belgiques
Summary: Fitz and Simmons indeed have a talk. But why does that always seem to happen during life-threatening situations? Starts out angst-y, then goes fluff-y and humour-y. Or something like that.
1. All I Have, All I Need

"FitzSimmons, run! Go!"

They had barely managed to escape an out-of-control Cal, who had cornered them and attacked. Each ICER they fired at him had only stalled him for a few seconds, until Ward had barged into the lab firing real bullets, which seemed to pack a bigger – if still a rather small – punch. Right after Cal had found them, the base had been overrun by tens of what, according to the monitors in the lab, had been Inhumans. The alarms blared as the emergency protocols were activated and the base went on lockdown. They had no idea where their team was.

Ward caught up to them soon and Jemma cursed her luck for having to rely on him again. But she feared that if she didn't, none of them would be walking away from this. She and Fitz seemed to be heading towards the same location: one of the strong rooms near Coulson's office. They would be safe there and that would give them the time to come up with a plan. Or at a semblance of one. As they turned a corner, however, Jemma came face to face with a woman she had never seen before, and because she was unarmed, the biochemist believed her to be an Inhuman. And she looked like a woman on a mission. Her hair was flaming red and anger seemed to roll off her in waves. Before they could say anything, she raised her hands and pushed them away from her body, right towards them. As if on instinct, Jemma pushed Fitz back just as sharp, stick-like objects shot from the woman's palms. Beside her, Ward cried out, just before she felt a searing pain going through her thigh. Her knee buckled and Fitz grabbed onto her before she could hit the ground. For a second, she saw nothing but white before her eyes and couldn't hear anything but Fitz exclaiming her name frantically. Two gunshots sounded followed by a low thud as the redhead crumbled to the ground.

"Ward?" Fitz called urgently, the question whether he was alright left unsaid. He could barely hold Jemma up, and he could see the blood trickling down her leg. They needed to get out of there right away.

"I'm fine," he replied, "Through and through. Simmons, come on, breathe."

They manoeuvred her around until her weight was divided between the two of them, and she tried to move as much as she could. The alarms were still blaring and her ears were ringing, and really, luck wasn't on her side, it seemed. Her leg was throbbing and she was becoming lightheaded. Fitz locked the strong room once they were inside and Jemma had been set on the ground.

"Ward, put pressure on that wound. Come on, you know this," Jemma berated him, needing to focus on something else than the wood sticking out of her leg. Both men kneeled down beside her, and the concern on Fitz' face awakened a flicker of fear in the back of her mind.

"And __you__ know we need to get this out, or it's going to infect," Ward replied, grinning a bit at her tone but ignoring what she said.

"It's going to be fine, Jemma. Squeeze my hand."

The warmth of Fitz' hand made her head feel even lighter then it already was, and Ward eyed her for a second before closing his hand around the stick. She nodded minutely, telling him silently to just go ahead and do it. She yelped in pain as Ward pulled slightly, but it didn't give. Her grip on Fitz' hand was probably already bordering on painful, but when Ward tried again, she couldn't contain the scream. Her hair was starting to stick to her face and she could almost __feel__ her temperature rising.

"I'm really going to have to yank this out. Then it'll be over, Simmons. Hang on."

Her hands were shaking like a leaf and tears fell from her eyes when Ward pulled with full force. She could feel the wood scraping the inside of her thigh and the pain burned her entire body. Soon, though, Fitz was pressing down on the wound with a piece of his shirt he had ripped off quickly. If this whole situation hadn't been the epitome of horror, she might have enjoyed that entire display. Her breath came in short bursts and she saw Ward sliding back against the wall. He too was sweating profusely and his face was scrunched up in pain. Fitz kept glancing at her while he balled up a piece of cloth and secured it to her thigh with his belt. Jemma managed a smile as she stilled his hands in his fussing over her.

"Thanks, Fitz. I'm okay. Go help Ward."

An hour later, neither Jemma nor Ward were faring any better, and to make matters worse, they had been found. At least two Inhumans were trying very hard to get to them, but for now the strong room seemed to hold and Gordon hadn't decided to get in the mix.

Ward was still slumped against the wall opposite her and Fitz. He hadn't said much after he had fixed her, and Jemma figured that he was probably saving his strength in the event that they were attacked again. She didn't have much of that left, unfortunately. Her mind was still clear as glass, but she was growing more and tired.

"Fitz. Is it cold in here?" she asked weakly, her tone indicating that she really wanted him to nod his head fiercely in assent. Instead his eyes roamed her face worriedly and he swallowed hard.

"Yeah. I mean, a bit, maybe," he agreed in a whisper, before removing his jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pulling it around her completely for good measure. She watched him sitting there in nothing but his undershirt and knew that she had cause to worry about herself. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought about how, once again, they were trapped and barely hanging on.

He was playing with his hands again and Jemma couldn't resist clasping them with hers. Their eyes met for a long moment and now she could clearly see that gentle look in those baby blues. (It's __love__ , Jemma, if you can't even think it, how are you ever going to say it?) Because she knew that that was what it was down to. She and Ward probably weren't going anywhere anytime soon, and when she sent Fitz away, she wanted him to go with the knowledge that she loved him too. Or, in any way, that she was probably almost certainly __in__ love with him too. It was just too ridiculous for words that it had taken another crisis for her to realise that.

"Fitz, you know you can't stay here much longer, don't you?"

His head whipped around to her so fast she flinched a bit. His grip on her fingers tightened, unwilling to release his hold on her.

"If you think I'm going to leave you here, you must be going mental," he replied heatedly, his eyes angry.

"I'm only going to slow you down. Ward's looking paler by the minute. You need to find Coulson. Anyone."

He vehemently shook his head, even as Ward groaned lightly where he sat. Jemma turned to look at him as well.

"Fitz, you need to get help. Please."

He made a pained sound and pressed his hands into his eyes, his tell-tale sign of distress. Jemma felt her resolve start to break at the sight.

"Why would you ask me to do this, Jemma?"

"Because you would do the same for me. In fact, you did."

He visibly flinched at her words, and she rushed to explain.

"I never liked your decision, and I still don't, but I do understand it," she began, taking his right hand in both of hers. "And I know that I've been distant ever since that day, and I want you to know that I'm sorry."

He was looking everywhere but at her, and Jemma knew that he was very uncomfortable having this conversation, but if there was any time she was going to have the courage to go through with it, it was now. Even if her timing was the absolute worst.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry that I left because I thought that was what you needed. I should've asked you instead."

Ward opened his eyes when he heard the hitch of Jemma's breath and the crack in her voice. He wished they would have been alone for this, a moment shared in privacy and without the prospect of danger. But Jemma continued anyway, with fire in her eyes despite how vulnerable she sounded.

"I'm sorry that, for all the book smarts I have and all the people I've helped working for SHIELD, I can't seem to help you at all."

"Jemma–," Fitz interrupted urgently, sounding ragged.

"No," she replied, feeling bold and cupping his jaw to turn him to her, "I have to say it. And you have to hear it."

She smiled sadly, but the tears falling from her eyes spoke more clearly. "I'm sorry that I didn't swim faster, Fitz."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ward saw Fitz look down and wipe at his eyes to squeeze the bridge of his nose, his chin quivering. He himself had to close his eyes and lean back against the wall after hearing the acute despair in Simmons' voice.

"I'm sorry I ignored what you said to me in that pod, but I think you wouldn't have believed me if I'd said anything when you woke up. You had to believe in yourself again. And I have been... in a dark place, to put it lightly."

She almost scoffed at how underwhelming that statement was. Seeing what had happened to Trip with her own eyes had splintered a part of her that had already been fractured during the nine days she spent keeping vigil at her best friend's bedside, begging some force to not claim the goodness in the world. They had spared Fitz but not Trip, a man who had always been nothing but kind to everyone. At least a part of her felt that was her fault. Her subsequent radical, unrelenting behaviour had caused Fitz to distrust her and fear her reaction to who Skye had become, and it still made her sick.

"The truth is, Fitz, that I don't like who I've become recently, without you."

She was crying now, shedding tears for the once so innocent Jemma Simmons, now hardened by Hydra and Inhumans alike. Fitz had been, too, but she could now clearly see that underneath it all, he had not changed as much as she had. She hoped that together, they could find a balance between the old and the new FitzSimmons.

Jemma looked at Fitz intently, shuddering a breath as she exhaled, and she hoped that he knew what she was going to say.

"You are the bravest man I know. You make me believe that the good always outweighs the bad and that you can't ever give up, no matter what life throws at you. With you, I feel safe."

Fitz' eyes were burning, that incredible shade of blue nearly overwhelming her–she couldn't keep the words to herself anymore.

"I love you, Fitz. I do. And I have to say it now that I have the chance."

Tears were still falling from her eyes and he looked on the verge of crying and maybe Ward was even sniffling, but Jemma immediately felt lighter. This felt __right__.

Fitz, however, couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely this was a cruel kind of illusion? He couldn't be this lucky and unlucky at the same time. Jemma had just told him the same thing he'd felt for a year, but with a hole in her thigh and the chance that they wouldn't make it out– _ _again__. Before he could do anything, she continued, calmer now.

"I said I didn't like your decision, but I love you for caring enough about me to make it."

"Love," he blurted out on instinct. Jemma frowned at him, and he had to swallow before explaining. __Smooth, Fitz__. "You–you said care, but uh–I love you. Of course I love you too, Jemma."

If her beaming smile was any indication, that went over better than he thought. The tension between them was almost unbearable now, and he knew what he wanted to do, but at the same time he didn't. It would feel like a goodbye and if anything, he wanted this to be the beginning of something, not the end.

Of course, he forgot all about that when Jemma tugged on his shirt and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was insistent but gentle at the same time. A bit how Jemma was, herself.

Too soon, she let go, her hands on either side of his face and a small smile on her flushed face. He imagined he looked quite the same. Still, he couldn't resist giving her an additional peck on the lips before pulling her into his arms. Her grip was surprisingly firm for someone so small and injured. He nuzzled her jaw and placed a kiss there, then another on her cheek.

"If you think I'm going to leave you after this, Jemma..."

"I know you are," she countered, letting go again and burrowing into his side. "Because at the end of the day, you always do what's right, and at the moment, it's not sitting here with me." He looked hurt for a second, before turning his gaze forward and sighing because he knew she was right.

"Fitz, I know we still need to–"

"We will. We'll figure it all out later. I promise."

That made her smile as she nodded, but he could see that she was again growing paler and tired.

Fitz' eyes focused on Ward for a second, contemplating his choices. When he turned back and brown met blue again, his eyes were soft.

"You better hang on and survive this, Jemma Simmons, because if something happens to you, I will never forgive myself."

It came out as a pained whisper. Jemma thought back to the pod and how she could have said that exact same thing back then, but never had had the chance to. At least now everything was out in the open, and she was grateful for that.

"Hey, you better get to Coulson in one piece and then come back for me, you hear me, Leopold Fitz? I don't fancy spending my last moments with Ward." She didn't say it with malice in her voice, more like sarcasm, and stupidly enough, that made them both chuckle.

"Guess I deserved that," Ward interjected, his voice surprisingly strong. Jemma and Fitz both gaped when he stood up, walking over to where they were still sitting on the floor. "But don't worry, Simmons, you won't have to. We're all going."

"Don't be daft, Ward, you've been shot. This surge of energy you're having right now won't last." Who did he think he was? Captain America? He was only human, like the rest of them. But Ward had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to get those two out of there, no matter what. He wouldn't let them end like this.

"I'm still going to carry you," he replied stubbornly, impatience all over his face. "I survived four to the side, remember? You're right, you would slow Fitz down, but not the both of us. He has to shoot because I can't aim properly with this arm, so I'm carrying you. Come on, help me get her up." Fitz still looked stunned and easily complied, each of them grabbing a hold of her arm, but she struggled against their grip.

"No! I won't let you. This is suicide."

"Well, I'm getting out of here, Jemma, and neither of us are leaving you now that Ward has apparently been reborn, so we either all stay here and face a certain death, or we all go. Your choice," Fitz was angry again and she had the strangest urge to call him 'Leo' again. That stubborn man. He kneeled down close to her and held her gaze steadily. "We're going to do what we always do..." he trailed off, cracking a small smile, his eyes bright.

She sighed again, but shakily this time. "We're going to fix it, together," she finished, running her fingers over his cheek.

"That's my Jemma."

She allowed herself to be pulled up but groaned through the pain. She climbed onto Ward's back gently. Her leg was throbbing, so she could imagine the pain that the pressure of her weight was causing. "You better know I don't like being a damsel."

He scoffed in reply. "Hey, I don't like it either, my shoulder's killing me."

She snorted at that and watched Fitz open the secret passage that would lead them to the lockdown bunker. Hopefully, their teammates were already there.

"Thanks, Ward," she added quietly and still a tad reluctantly.

"I owe you."

"Well, that's the understatement of the year," she rebuffed, but her tone wasn't really unkind.

Fitz beckoned them and Ward cleared his throat before adding, "And by the way, __that__ was the Simmons I was never disappointed in."

"So sappy, Ward," Jemma teased, but squeezing his good arm for a moment anyway.

"Also, nice work on the kissing."

That earned him a smack around the head.


	2. He's the Air I Would Kill to Breathe

She didn't remember much after that. She held on long enough to see their teammates and to help them form a plan, but by then she had worn herself out and her head had lolled onto Hunter's shoulder.

The next time she woke, she was lying on a gurney, moving fast as Fitz held onto her hand, Skye on her other side. She fixed Jemma with a smile, even though she still looked concerned.

"It's going to be okay, Jemma," she told her, opening the doors for the doctors with her powers. Jemma wanted to tell her how proud she was of her friend, of how much she had grown. There would be time for that later.

"Besides, when you wake up, you're going to have to tell me all about this," Skye added, gesturing between the two scientists. Jemma nodded weakly, grinning despite herself.

She felt Fitz kiss her knuckles gently.

"After all this," he began urgently, "we're going to go somewhere. Somewhere, uh. Nice. You know, to eat. Uh–just you and me. Like–"

"A date?" she supplied, his adorably flustered proposal amusing her a bit. Giving his hand a squeeze, she assured him, "I'll hold you to that."

Soon after that, everything turned black again.

"Fitz, what are you doing?"

Jemma had stirred awake at the sound of her hospital door opening. She had been there for two days now, recovering from the blood loss caused by what literally had been a thorn in her side, or thigh. Fitz had been very cautious when she had awoken, probably afraid that everything between them had been a side effect of a fever. She'd quickly eased his mind by reminding him of their date.

Which, apparently, he was bent on having right there and then.

"I know I said I was going to take you out after all of this, but... Well, I didn't feel like waiting," he admitted bashfully, and her heart ached at his words. He had actually found an honest-to-God picnic basket and a tartan blanket, which he draped over her legs.

She would probably go to hell for this, but she did love teasing him. A flustered Fitz was such an adorable sight to behold.

She put on her best uncomfortable, disappointed face and fiddled nervously with the ends of the fabric. "But... I already knew what I was going to wear and everything," she explained, "You know I excel at preparation."

He looked like a deer in headlights and oh, who was she kidding, she couldn't keep this up for very long.

"Oh. Okay," he replied, nodding repeatedly and scratching the back of his head. "Well, I can just take all of this–"

"Oh, Fitz," she told him lovingly, a giggle escaping her. "I was only kidding. I mean, not about the preparation, of course, but... I don't want to wait either. Come here." She urged him, her hand outstretched towards him.

"You know, I should leave," he told her, eyes mischievous. "You're the worst, Jemma Simmons."

"Am I really?" she asked innocently.

Fitz groaned. "No. Damn you, woman."

That had Jemma laughing out loud as she pulled him closer, scooting over on the bed to let him sit beside her. She winced a bit when the movement pulled at her stitches. Fitz gave her a look, but she just smiled in return. She held his gaze for a moment, until a blush rose on her cheeks at the intensity of it.

"How are you feeling, Jemma?"

"I'm okay. Steadily getting better, you heard the doctors," she reminded him, smiling nervously.

"Yeah, well, you'll probably be fully recovered much faster than they say, just to spite them," Fitz told her, now grinning brightly.

She giggled again and she could tell he was infinitely pleased with himself. She wondered how she had been able to resist his cuteness for so long.

"So," she continued, needing to change the subject before she began staring at him again. "What's in the basket?"

"Excellent question. I have all the good stuff." He started pulling everything out and spread the items on the bed. "A beer for me and some ginger ale for the lady, seeing as you can't drink yet. Some pretzels. Let's see, two thoroughly packed bowls of vegetable soup, courtesy of Mack, and... this."

He held out a white, wrapped package and her eyes immediately sought his, seeking confirmation.

"I made you a sandwich. Buff–"

The words died in his throat as he was once again surprised by Jemma's lips, only this time his reaction was instantaneous, kissing her back fiercely and deepening the kiss as one hand found her lower back and he slid the other through her hair. It definitely wasn't just pure emotion, as the last one had been. No, this wasn't the promise for much more.

Just then, a voice sounded from the other side of the wall.

"Oh my God, they just kissed, you guys!" Skye's voice was a barely contained whisper, and Fitz grumbled in frustration when he pulled back and Jemma sighed at the loss of contact. He was going to kill Skye. Or at least lock her in a broom cupboard for like, an hour. Without any snacks. Yeah, that would teach her.

Unfortunately, to make matters worse, she wasn't alone.

"Skye, you know they can hear you, right?" Bobbi asked her sarcastically, her voice quieter but still audible.

"Like I care. Holy crap, I am so happy right now."

Then, rapid footsteps sound through the hall, followed by Hunter's voice. "Ugh, I missed it?"

"I can show you the security footage, no worries."

"Hey Tremors," Mack admonished her gently, "how about we give these guys some privacy?"

"You were here too, Mack. Don't go all Captain Morals on me now. Besides, Coulson started it."

"I resent that," their Director interjected. "I suggested you check on them. May put the thought in my head."

"Um, TMI? None of us need to know about May and the thoughts she puts in your head," Hunter replied, sounding uncomfortable.

"I saw it first anyway," Ward added, sounding smug.

"Guys, please, shut it!" Fitz called out, still looking at Jemma, who had the same gleeful smile on her face.

"Jeez Fitz, rude!"

"Go away, Lance," Jemma yelled, after which she became distracted once more by Fitz' hands cupping her cheek.

"Fine. Let's go, guys, see if we care."

Next they heard the sound of everyone leaving, followed by Coulson clearing his throat. "As your Director, I feel inclined to inform you that I have recently lost the folder that contained Section 17. Painful loss. But anyway," he continued when there was no reply, "We're– I'm just going to– Yeah." He mumbled before taking his leave as well.

Fitz and Jemma burst out laughing at the same time, grateful at what big dorks their teammates were. The biochemist regarded the engineer, and she knew that as long as she had this particular big dork by her side, she would be just fine.


End file.
